


A pigeon amongst the cats

by BearlyWriting



Series: Jason Rare Pair Challenge [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belting, Bestiality, Blood and Injury, Bondage, Bottom Jason Todd, Crying, Dark Dick Grayson, Dark Titans, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Public Sex, Superpower Sex, Vomiting, Watersports, Whipping, it’s beast boy, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: “This is the first exercise we’re going to do,” Dick says and Jason can’t help but think he sounds a little like Batman does, when he’s walking him through training. As he speaks, he tugs Jason’s gauntlets off, before winding the end of the rope around Jason’s wrist. “It’s all about trust. If we can’t trust you, we can’t have you on a mission with us. If I think you can’t trust us, then that’s almost as bad.”Jason deserves to be a Titan. And he’ll prove it.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Wally West/Joseph Wilson/Garfield Logan, Teen Titans/Jason Todd
Series: Jason Rare Pair Challenge [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738768
Comments: 12
Kudos: 74
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020, Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge





	A pigeon amongst the cats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scandalsavage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/gifts).



> A treat for the amazing Scandalsavage’s kinkmas prompt. I don’t know if this was what you were looking for but I really hope you enjoy anyway! :)
> 
> Please heed the tags! Dick is...a dick in this, and so are the other Titans. If that, or anything else, is going to bother you, please don’t read this fic!

Despite having lived with Bruce for almost three years, Jason has spent almost no time at all with the fabled first son. They had met, of course. Early on, Bruce had been keen for the two of them to get on, desperate for a friendship to bridge the gap that had opened between them.

They hadn’t.

Dick had been, at best, cold and distant. For the most part, he’d simply avoided ever having to actually speak to Jason and Jason had been happy to avoid him in return. Bruce had made one ill-fated attempt to integrate him into Dick’s team and that had gone even worse. The other Titans had been just as bad as Dick. They’d spent the whole time refusing to talk to him. Except when they were criticising him of course.

It had hurt. Jason can’t deny that, even if he’d hidden it as best as he could. The worst part was that Jason could imagine himself getting on with some of them: Speedy, Beast Boy, Starfire, maybe. Even if it’s clear that he’ll never get on with Dick.

The thought _still_ leaves a bitter taste in Jason’s mouth.

So when Jason gets an unexpected call from Dick, it’s certainly a surprise. And normally Jason wouldn’t even bother answering but, well, he and Bruce have been on the outs ever since Felipe. Jason is desperate for any chance he might have for getting some action in as Robin. So he answers.

“Dick?” Jason asks, not managing to keep the hostility entirely out of his voice.

“Hi Little Wing,” Dick says, cheerfully. It’s utterly different to the way he usually sounds when forced to speak to Jason. Jason blinks in surprise.

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to talk to your big brother?” Dick asks, sounding far more amused than Jason thinks the situation warrants.

Dick can’t see him through the phone but Jason rolls his eyes anyway. Big brother is pushing it by any stretch of the imagination. In reality, they’re barely better than strangers. Except, when they were strangers Jason had actually liked him. He’d looked up to him, even. What a fucking joke.

“I thought you’d be pleased,” Dick continues. “I heard you and Bruce had a little falling out.”

Yeah, they had, but Jason still bristles at that. Dick, of all people, can hardly get on his case about it. Jason hadn’t even been around to see the worst of their arguments and what he has seen is already a hundred times more vicious than any argument he and Bruce have ever had.

“What do you care,” Jason snaps.

He expects Dick to snap right back at him, but he only laughs. It’s a strange jolt to hear it. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever heard Dick laugh for any other reason than to mock him.

“Come on, Little Wing,” - that fucking name again, as if he and Dick have ever been close enough for nicknames - “I thought you’d want to spend some time with the Titans. Get out of the manor. Clear your head.”

And, fuck. Despite himself, Jason can feel some of the hostility draining out of him, a tentative little spark of hope blooming in his chest. Because this is exactly what he’s always wanted - ever since he’d first found out Dick was _Robin_ , ever since Bruce had first suggested that he might have a place with the Titans, if he wanted. Sure, Jason had pretended it hadn’t bothered him, when it had all gone to shit, then, but he can be honest in his own head. In reality, he had wanted so badly for the team to like him - to find him useful, to want him there. Their rejection had stung worse than he would ever admit. To anyone.

And he won’t deny he’s imagined this. It’s stupid, but Jason has pictured exactly this scenario: Dick, realising that he was wrong, that the way the Titans had treated Jason was shitty, that Jason could actually be a valuable member of the team. Dick, begging Jason to come back and give the team another chance.

Not that Dick is begging now. Or apologising. But Jason has long ago learnt how to make the best of a bad bunch. If Dick is even considering inviting him to hang out with the team...well, Jason doesn’t see how he can say no.

He isn’t going to let Dick know that, though.

“Yeah?” he says, tamping down the hope and letting an edge of bitterness leak into the words. “Didn’t seem like the Titans were all that keen to spend time with me last time.”

It’s a little too close to complaining. Jason had meant to sound aloof and uncaring, but it’s definitely come out more like a whiny kid, demanding someone plays with them. Jason winces.

Dick is silent for a second. Then: “Well, last time you came over, it was Bruce’s decision. You know we weren’t on the best terms, then. This time it’s me asking.”

And that little hope blossoms into something larger, something warmer. Dick can’t possibly have known that that was the best thing to say, but it was. Knowing that Dick’s coldness was because of _Bruce_ , that it wasn’t Jason’s fault - he hadn’t done anything to deserve it and Dick _does_ want him around - it makes the offer almost impossible to refuse.

“Well, seeing as you’re asking so nicely.”

Dick laughs again. Without the edge of mockery, it’s a pleasant sound, one that Jason thinks he’d like to hear again.

“We’re going on a mission tomorrow, so get here as soon as you can.”

Which, okay, Jason wasn’t expecting this to happen _now_. But if they’re going on a mission tomorrow...does that mean Dick wants him to join them? Jason grins to himself. That would sure show Batman. Who cares if he’s benched if he’s going to get to go on a mission with the Titans?

He can be there tonight easy, if he zetas. Jason has to tamp down his excitement when he speaks: “Sure, I suppose I can make it.”

“Great,” Dick says, all bright and sunny. “See you tonight then!”

Jason is still grinning to himself when he hangs up the phone. He’d better get suited up.

⁂

Jason will admit, he’s a little bit disappointed to turn up and realise that the girls are nowhere to be seen. Everyone knows Starfire is the best Titan, after all, and Jason had kind of been hoping to get a chance to actually talk to her.

But when he turns up, it’s a total sausage party. Not that Jason doesn’t want to hang out with the guys. It’s just...well, it’s not _all_ of the Titans, is it?

Dick must sense his disappointment, because he smiles and says, “I thought we could have a boy’s night, you know? The girls are all off painting their nails or whatever. We’ve got pizza.”

They certainly do. Jason counts at least ten boxes, littered around the rec room, hanging off of sofas and sprawled across the tables. Not that Jason is against a pizza night with the boys. He’s just not sure this is what he was expecting. He was kind of hoping for something more mission-oriented.

“Cool,” he says, though, instead of saying anything like that. “I love pizza.”

One of the red-heads sitting on the sofa smiles at him. Speedy, Jason remembers because he recognises the stupid archer costume. Roy is his civilian name, although none of them are in their civilian clothes. Do they always sit around in uniform? Like the Justice League on the Watch Tower or are they actually planning to do something tonight?

“And New York pizza is way better than whatever shit it is you get in Gotham,” Roy says.

Jason tries not to bristle at that. He likes Gotham pizza just fine, thank you very much, but trust Dick’s friends to be food snobs about _pizza_. Before he can say anything, Dick steps forward to whack Roy on the back of the head.

“Hey, don’t make fun of Gotham.”

“Why not,” Roy snips back. “You couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

Dick scowls. “Shut up and say hi to Jason.”

They all end up introducing themselves: Speedy, Beast Boy, Kid Flash, and Jericho, even though Jason remembers them all from last time. It makes Jason feel unusually shy, to be the centre of attention, especially considering they had all done their level best to ignore him last time he’d been here.

It’s not that bad, though, sitting there eating pizza. Jason perches awkwardly on one of the less-occupied couches and tries to enjoy himself. The others talk and joke amongst themselves and mostly leave Jason alone, but it doesn’t feel like they’re actively leaving him out. By the time the pizzas have been polished off and Dick stands and stretches and turns to look at Jason expectantly, he’s actually enjoying himself. Honestly, he’s almost forgotten about the mission tomorrow.

“Want to get started then?” Dick asks.

Jason blinks back at Dick in confusion, but the others all obviously know what he’s talking about, because they start standing too. Jericho, who’d been sitting next to Jason in companionable silence, offers him a smile before slipping out of the room. Roy follows him out, thumping him good-naturedly on the arm when he catches up to him in the doorway. None of the others leave, but Wally stands and paces over to where Dick is standing and Beast Boy sits up from where he’d been slumped on the sofa.

“Start what?” Jason asks, swallowing against the sudden unease in his throat. He has absolutely no reason to be nervous, after all.

Dick smiles, sunnily. “You wanted to come on the mission, didn’t you?”

Jason’s heart leaps in his chest. Yes, he did want to go on the mission - does want to, still. He hadn’t expected Dick to take him, though. Not really. Not considering everything.

Trying not to seem too eager, Jason nods, lifting one shoulder in half a shrug. “Yeah, if you think I could help.”

“I want you to come,” Dick says and Jason suppresses the excited little flutter in his chest at that. “But that last mission didn’t go so well, you know. So I thought we could do a little team bonding, or whatever, first. Just so we all get a feel for each other. If you do well, we’ll see about you coming with us tomorrow.”

Team bonding? Jason can do that. The pizza night was probably the first test - and Jason doesn’t think he’d done too bad at that - probably they’ll do a bit of sparring to get a feel for each other’s moves, maybe some trust exercises or something equally stupid. Bruce gets Jason to do that sort of shit all the time.

“Alright, I’m up for that.”

Dick’s smile turns sharp. Jason has no idea what that’s supposed to mean.

Before either of them can say anything else, Jericho and Speedy return. Jericho has a length of rope wrapped around his hands. Roy is holding his bow and arrow. For a moment, Jason imagines them all shooting increasingly smaller fruits off each other’s heads. Probably not, right?

Beside Dick, Wally is practically buzzing out of his skin. He zips over to Joey and pulls the rope out of his hands. Then he zooms over to Jason, grabbing at his shoulder and grinning at him when Jason jumps.

“Chill out, KF,” Dick says and it's hard to tell if it’s amusement or annoyance in his voice. “We’ve got to do this properly.”

Wally bobs his head and his smile softens a little. Jason smiles back, weakly, unsure of what is happening and how he’s supposed to react.

“Sorry,” Wally offers. “I get over-excited sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Jason says. He glances at Dick, hoping for some direction, or for him to explain what’s going on.

But there’s not much help from him either. Dick just steps up beside Wally and lifts one end of the rope. With his other hand, he grips Jason’s wrist and pulls it towards himself. Jason lets him, despite the uneasy rolling of his stomach.

“This is the first exercise we’re going to do,” Dick says and Jason can’t help but think he sounds a little like Batman does, when he’s walking him through training. As he speaks, he tugs Jason’s gauntlets off, before winding the end of the rope around Jason’s wrist. “It’s all about trust. If we can’t trust you, we can’t have you on a mission with us. If I think you can’t trust us, then that’s almost as bad.”

He smiles again before using his grip on Jason’s wrist to spin him around. Jason goes with it, even though his skin is prickling with nerves and his throat feels too tight. For a moment, Dick fumbles with Jason’s cape one-handed, before the material falls away, sliding to the floor with a soft thump. As soon as it’s free, Dick finishes tightening the rope around his wrist, then grabs at Jason’s other arm and pulls them both together. Another set of hands - Wally, Jason guesses - starts winding the rope around Jason, wrapping it around his arms from his wrists to his elbows, tightening it until Jason’s forearms are pulled flush together behind his back, wrenching painfully on his shoulders.

Before Jason can complain about that, Wally steps around to his front and starts wrapping the rope around Jason’s torso, as well. Jason flinches, straining automatically against the restraints, feeling his muscles bunching under his tunic. Wally looks up at him, as if surprised, and Jason has no idea what his face looks like but Wally’s smile sharpens as he finishes looping the rope around him. 

Once it’s tied, Wally runs a hand over the rope running under Jason’s chest. It’s tight enough to restrict Jason’s breathing, just a little, and it’s pushing his pecs up in a way that feels almost obscene. The brush of Wally’s fingers - light enough that Jason can’t even really feel them through his uniform - has him twitching again. His face is already red. Jason can feel the blood pooling under his skin.

“Well done, Robin,” Dick says and Jason’s blush deepens. An embarrassing warmth sparks to life in his chest at the praise. “I’m glad you trusted us to do that.”

“Sure,” Jason mumbles, tugging again at the ropes. The position is already straining his shoulders something awful and the awkwardness of it will make it difficult to escape, even if Jason genuinely attempts to. He doesn’t want to ask Dick to untie it already, though. Not if this is part of the whole team bonding thing.

Jason isn’t going to give up on the mission the moment things get a little bit awkward.

Wally is still in front of him, still running his hands back and forth over the rope crossed across Jason’s chest. There’s a strangely intense look on his face that has Jason shifting under his touch. His chest feels too tight - and not just because of the restraints.

“Didn’t Dick tell you to chill out, Kid,” Roy snaps and for a moment Jason thinks he might be talking to him. It takes another moment to remember that _kid_ probably means Wally, here.

“ _Alright_ ,” Wally grumbles, scowling, but he steps away from Jason. 

The relief Jason feels at that is short-lived. Dick wriggles his fingers under the rope wrapped around his arms and uses it to tug him backwards. Jason stumbles, not expecting it, but Dick holds him up with easy strength. Jason’s arms ache at the strain. Then Dick is pushing him over the arm of the couch. The ropes press uncomfortably into his chest as he’s forced over it. He squirms.

It’s a weirdly vulnerable position: his hips pushed up by the curve of the arm, his head pressed into the cushions, his arms wrenched behind him. He can feel the heat of Dick against his bare legs, looming behind him. He can feel the weight of the other Titans’ stares.

“It’s your turn now, Jason, to prove we can trust you.”

A hand lands on the small of Jason’s back. He flinches - a whole body movement - and immediately regrets it. There’s no way Dick didn’t notice that. Or the other Titans.

“Don’t worry, Jason. I’m not going to do anything I think you can’t handle. But we have to be prepared for any eventuality.”

Someone else steps up behind him. Another person circles around to his left. Roy, he realises, when he turns his head and sees the bow held loosely at the side of two thick legs. Behind him, there’s the shuffle of something exchanging hands. He twitches again when something brushes against his legs.

“If someone takes you captive...if someone tortures you...we need to know you won’t say anything stupid.”

The nerves in Jason’s stomach thicken into something sharp and cold. Already, he’s sweating under his uniform. He has to fight against the urge to shiver.

“Dick-“ he tries, because he doesn’t like this. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t even know what _this_ is, but the fact of the matter is that he _doesn’t_ trust Dick. Hell, he doesn’t even know him. Sure, Dick might be his...what? foster brother? but he’s only actually met him a few times. They’re practically strangers.

“It’s no different from the training you’ll have done with, B.”

Except, Jason knows B. He trusts him.

“We just want to see how you handle the pain,” Dick says, light and easy.

Then there’s the sound of something whipping through the air and _pain_ sharp and sudden across the back of his thighs.

Jason yelps, jerking forward, shock lancing cold fingers right down his spine. It doesn’t even hurt that much but it’s such a _surprise_ that Jason can’t brace against it. And with his arms tied behind him, he has even less purchase. All he can do is rock against the arm of the sofa and suck in a startled breath.

There’s another sharp snap of the belt, another shock of pain. Jason cries out again before he can stop himself, then bites his tongue hard to try to stifle any further noises. When the next hit lands, Jason tastes blood.

Roy drops onto the sofa, then, his bulk causing the cushions to dip beneath Jason. A hand lands on his head, fingers petting through his hair. It’s a strange, soft counterpoint to the blows still falling. 

Jason’s thighs feel hot and tingly with pain. His whole face is hot too and his chest is unbearably tight. His eyes are prickling. Dick doesn’t let up, even though Jason is sure some of the slick on his thighs is blood as well as sweat. Still, Jason manages not to make another noise. Not until Dick finally drops the belt to his side and runs one gloved hand over the welts left behind. An embarrassing whimper slips out then, but nothing else.

Bruce has trained him on pain management plenty of times - taught him breathing techniques and meditation - he’s even applied pressure holds sometimes, to give Jason a chance to apply those techniques whilst in actual pain. But it’s never been like this. There’s never been any actual damage. It’s never been so sudden and brutal.

But if Dick thinks this is necessary...well, Jason can handle a little pain.

“That was good,” Dick says. The hand is still on Jason’s thigh, fingers wrapped around the meat of it, pressing against the tender flesh on the inside.

Jason squirms, uncomfortable and in pain but not wanting to be too obvious about it. Dick’s hand slides up, caressing over more welts, until it’s right at the crease of Jason’s buttocks, where the hem of Jason’s shorts sits.

“Can you believe I used to wear these?” he asks, obviously not talking to Jason. Above Jason, Roy laughs. From further away, there are other laughs too. Jason had almost forgotten about the others.

Fingers slip under the hem of Jason’s shorts and pull them away from his skin before letting them snap back. Jason jolts.

“Dick,” he tries again, “I’m not sure-“

“We’re not done yet,” Dick interrupts. “You’ve got to do more than take a little beating if you want to come on a mission with us.”

With that, Dick yanks Jason’s shorts down to his knees. 

Suddenly, Jason isn’t so sure he actually wants to come on the mission anymore.

“Dick!” he yelps, kicking out with one leg as if that’s got a chance of stopping Dick. “Stop. I get it, okay. You can trust me. I ain’t gonna blab.”

Dick hums. Jason hears the crack of leather against flesh but there’s no pain that comes with it, so Jason assumes he was hitting his own palm.

“What do you think?” Dick asks. “You think we can trust him?”

That question definitely isn’t aimed at Jason.

“After that?” Wally scoffs, sounding closer than Jason had thought he was. “Come on, Dick, you know you were way tougher on us. If the kid can’t take more than that, then he shouldn’t even bother.”

Jason feels the instinctive argument on the tip of his tongue. Of course he can take more than a whipping with a belt - his old man had done that a hundred times and worse - but he doesn’t need to. They can trust him. He shouldn’t have to prove it. Except, something tells him that saying that would only be proving their point. So Jason bites his tongue and keeps silent.

The fingers in his hair tighten, pulling painfully at his curls. “I agree,” Roy says and, despite himself, Jason feels the sting of betrayal in his chest. “You can’t let him off that easy.”

“Looks like the people have spoken,” Dick says, and Jason doesn’t think he imagines the smug edge to his voice.

His hand lands on Jason again, on the bare flesh of his ass and Jason has to swallow another yelp. Then Dick is kicking his legs apart, pressing painfully against the welts, baring Jason to the room. Instinctively, Jason tries to close them again, but Dick swats at Jason’s ass in admonishment, pressing his knee into Jason’s thigh to hold him still.

“Don’t fight,” Dick says, softly. He grinds his knee hard enough into Jason’s leg that it hurts, before letting up. “Just show us that you can keep that pretty mouth shut.”

Jason snarls on instinct. When Dick’s hand firms its grip on his ass and tugs one cheek aside, the snarl turns into a furious yell.

“This isn’t funny,” he yelps and his voice isn’t half as strong as he wants it to be. “Dick, you can stop this now.”

Dick hums. Cool leather slides up between Jason’s legs, brushes over the sensitive skin of his balls, then further up, to the furled muscle of his hole. Jason flinches. Terror cinches his throat tight.

“I’m not being funny,” Dick murmurs. Then, “Wally?”

Another hand grips his ass - Wally’s, it must be Wally’s and Jason has no idea how to parse through the complicated mix of emotions in his gut at _that_ thought - and tugs them further apart. Anyone standing behind Jason will be able to see the spread of his ass, the way his hole clenches at the brush of cool air. The knowledge turns his stomach.

There’s another whistle of air. This time, the strike lands on the inside of one cheek, then, immediately, the other. Jason howls, writhing in his bonds, bucking against the hands upon him. It hurts more than he could ever have expected, such a sharp, sudden pain that it almost feels as though it’s bi-passed his flesh entirely and struck right inside him.

But it’s nothing compared to the pain of the next hit landing directly on his hole. Jason sobs. Writhes. Tries desperately to drag in enough air to beg Dick to stop. It all bursts out of him again in a ragged scream when the belt whips down onto his balls. The pain is so intense that it barely even feels like pain. It feels more like a hook, digging into his stomach, a shock of nauseating electricity up his spine.

“You’re supposed to keep quiet,” Dick says and Jason opens his mouth to ask how the fuck he’s supposed to do that but can only groan in agony.

“Roy?” Dick’s voice is soft, in contrast to the violence he’s wreaking on Jason.

Beside his head, Roy shifts. The hand in his hair tugs until Jason’s neck is craned back. Jason blinks up at the blurry outline of the other Titan. The tears clinging to his lashes spill over his cheeks.

“Keep your head up,” Roy says as he settles more firmly on his knees, “and your mouth open.”

Jason does so on instinct, all contrariness shocked straight out of him by the pain. Roy lifts the bow at his side, nocks an arrow, then presses the sharp head to Jason’s tongue.

Jason goes deathly still. Through his tears, he can see the bulge of Roy’s muscles - the implicit threat that he could let the arrow loose at any second. Roy grins at him, then slides the head further into Jason’s mouth, the sharp edges a threat against the soft membrane of his tongue and cheeks, until the point is pressed against the back of his throat. The urge to gag swells in Jason’s chest, but he forces it back, terrified that any movement of his throat might slice it open. His pulse is pounding in his head.

“You’d best keep quiet now, Little Wing,” Dick says. Then he swings the belt again, bringing it down with a sharp smack across Jason’s hole.

Jason tightens every single muscle in his body to keep from jerking forward - to strangle the scream before it can escape up his throat and cut it open. Being unable to react, being so frozen and helpless, it only makes the pain worse. It only makes the choking fear in Jason’s chest tighter.

And Dick doesn’t give an inch. The belt falls again and again. Jason writhes, trembling from the strain of keeping his head still, the pain of the edge of the arrow against his tongue, the agony of each hit as it lands. Sweat is pouring down his face, mingling with the tears that are streaking hot furrows over his cheeks.

He wants this to stop. Jason doesn’t give a shit if he never sees the Titans again after this, as long as this _ends_.

As if reading his mind, Dick finally relents. By now, Jason’s whole lower half is throbbing with pain, almost numb, and slick with blood and sweat. He desperately wants to sob - just to let out some of the pressure in his chest - but the arrow is still pressed into the back of his throat. He’s drooling, saliva dripping in thick rivulets down his chin, mixing with all the other fluids on his face.

“See,” Dick says, “you _can_ do it.”

Then he presses the flat of his thumb against Jason’s sore hole. This time Jason does jerk, forcing the tip of the arrow into his throat. He freezes in time to avoid any serious damage, but he can feel the wet heat of blood trickling down the back of his throat and the sharp sting of the cut. It turns his stomach queasily. And, yet, it can’t compare to the nauseas horror of having Dick’s thumb pressed against such an intimate spot.

“Jericho?” Dick murmurs.

Shuffling. The click of something being uncapped. The wet schlick of something being poured out. Jason blinks. His face burns and his eyes prickle with more tears and his vision wavers like he’s drunk or something, Roy’s stomach blurring in and out of view. He knows that sound. He’s slicked his own hand enough times to recognise it. And he can guess what that means is coming next.

A strange sense of unreality settles over Jason then. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Despite everything leading up to this point, Jason still can’t believe Dick could do _this_. The Titans are heroes. They’re _Jason’s_ heroes. They won’t _rape_ him. This is all just some terrible nightmare.

And, yet, those are definitely Dick’s fingers, slick with lube, pressing at his hole.

Jason whimpers as Dick pushes both fingers into him. Dick isn’t gentle and although the fingers are slick, Jason’s hole is sore already from the beating. It hurts. And worse than the physical hurt is the black hole opening up in Jason’s chest.

“You could have done better at that, Robin,” Dick says and his voice is cold. “But we’ve got one more team building activity still to do. You can make it up to us, hmm?”

No. Jason doesn’t want to _make it up_ to anyone. He doesn’t want to be here.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he is here, with Dick Grayson’s fingers up his ass, scissoring and twisting and crooking inside him like they’re searching for something.

They find it. Jason jolts again at the warm pulse of pleasure, making an odd gurgling noise in his throat as he tries to hold back what might have been a moan if it could have escaped. Dick laughs. He brushes over that spot again and again until Jason feels his cock start to fill out, straining where it’s crushed against the sofa.

As if what Dick is doing to him isn’t bad enough. As if Jason needs to be betrayed by his own body.

Then, abruptly, the fingers are gone, replaced with the blunt pressure of something much larger. Jason tenses, even though he knows this will be easier if he relaxes. But he doesn’t want this to be _easier_. If he’s going to be raped, he wants it to hurt. He wants it to feel as forced as it is.

It does. Even with the stretching and the lube, the pain of Dick forcing his cock through the furled muscle of Jason’s hole is startling. Jason chokes. Manages a high, broken whine. Feels the prick of the arrow in his throat.

Dick thrusts, jerkily, carving his way into Jason in quick, brutal strokes. Jason whines as best he can, more tears spilling hot over his cheeks. He wants to scream, wants to yell, wants to beg, but the pressure of the arrow against his tongue keeps him mostly silent. It hurts more than Jason was expecting. He has no frame of reference for this. No pleasant memories to fall back on to make this a little easier. All he has is this - his not-brother forcing himself into him, the team that Jason had wanted to be a part of standing around and watching as if this isn’t exactly the sort of crime they fight against every day.

And Dick is as relentless in this as he had been with the belt. None of Jason’s resistance - as little as it is - has any affect on him whatsoever. Once he’s fully sheathed, he sets a brutal pace, his hips slamming against Jason’s ass with every thrust. His hands bruising on Jason’s waist. Dick is mostly silent too, only the occasional low groan or strained grunt escaping.

The others are not so silent.

“Look at you taking him,” Wally coos. There’s a hand on Jason’s back, warm pressure. He burns at the thought that the others are here - that they’re watching this happen. “You’re still so scrawny. How deep does his cock hit? Is it all the way in your stomach?”

“I bet it is,” Gar adds. His voice sounds strange - low and almost inhuman, as if he’s half-shifted. “Bet I could get deeper.”

“Yeah, well you’ll have to wait your turn Gar,” Roy says. “You’ll fucking ruin him.”

God, Jason wishes they would shut up. He wishes this wasn’t happening.

“Come on sweetheart,” Roy says, maybe seeing something on Jason’s face. “Don’t be like that. If you want more cock you only have to ask.”

Behind him, Dick laughs. His thrusts don’t stutter at all. He doesn’t even sound out of breath, although he’s forcing his way into Jason with a brutality that Jason can feel all the way in his throat.

Roy shifts. Then he carefully slides the arrow free. Jason sobs the moment it’s no longer pressed against him.

“Stop,” he begs, because he can’t live with himself if he doesn’t. Because he needs them all to know that he isn’t okay with this. “Please stop, Dick. It hurts. It’s too much.”

Dick doesn’t even pause. “But you wanted this Jason. You wanted to come on the mission. You wanted to do this.”

“No,” Jason manages through the heaving sobs that he now can’t seem to stop. “Not like this. No, not -“

Roy cuts him off by hooking two fingers into his mouth and jerking his jaw open. With his other hand, he’s already fumbling at the zipper of his uniform. His cock, when he pulls it free, is huge and hard and terrifying, already leaking precum from the wet tip.

“Don’t bite me,” Roy growls. 

Then he’s pressing forward, pushing into Jason’s mouth with a low grunt. The taste of salt and musk smears across Jason’s tongue. He chokes as Roy just keeps going, forcing himself into Jason’s throat, past the automatic contraction of his gag reflex. When the tip of Roy’s cock scrapes over the wound at the back of Jason’s throat, his whole body convulses. Roy makes a low sound of arousal. Behind him, Dick lets out a startled, strained laugh.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Do that again, Roy, he tightened like a little bitch.”

Roy does, dragging his cock out of Jason’s throat and immediately forcing it back in. Jason steels himself against it, but he can’t stop the way he gags, the way his body clenches up like that might somehow rid him of the intrusion. The agony of Roy forcing himself past the cut drags a high whine from Jason that’s immediately silenced as his throat is stretched wide around the girth of his cock.

“You weren’t kidding about him being a little slut, huh?” 

Roy’s hands are hard around Jason’s head. The fingers on his jaw are tight enough to bruise, tight enough to make the bone creak. The fingers in his hair are yanking strands out by the root with every rough thrust. It’s such a strange juxtaposition to the way he’d so gently stroked through Jason’s hair earlier that it leaves Jason dizzy. 

Or maybe that’s just that he can’t drag enough oxygen past the cock lodged in his throat.

“Guess we know exactly what he was doing on the street all those years,” Dick says. His voice is low and breathless. His thrusts are faster and harder now and Jason prays that that means this is almost over. _Please_ let this be over. “Just another street rat hooker.”

There’s laughter from more than just Roy. Jason burns at the accusation, at the humiliation and the injustice. As if Dick knows anything about Jason’s years on the street. As if all the kids who’ve had to do exactly _this_ are worth any less than Dick and his fucked-up rapist friends.

One of Dick’s hands slides over his ass. The release of pressure at his hip hurts. The thumb that forces its way in alongside Dick’s cock hurts worse. 

“I wonder how many cocks have already been in here.”

“Shut up,” Roy chokes. One of his hands has slid down to Jason’s throat, presumably to feel the bulge of himself beneath Jason’s skin. The pressure has the blood in Jason’s head pounding. He’s going to pass out soon, if Roy doesn’t let up. Part of him wishes he could. “I don’t want to think about how many dirty cocks he’s had up his ass while I’m fucking him.”

Dick laughs again, then groans. His hips stutter painfully, rabbiting against Jason as he thrusts quick and deep. He curses, then stills, and something hot spills into Jason, burning like acid against his fragile insides, over the tears that Dick’s cock had ripped into him.

Jaason screams, but the sound is muffled by Roy. Dick pulls free, slaps Jason’s ass hard enough that Jason jolts, choking himself on the cock in his mouth. But at least Dick is finished now. This is nearly over, Jason thinks, prays. Once Roy has gotten off, this will be done.

Hands grip his hips. Something blunt and hard pushes up between his cheeks. Jason’s throat constricts with grief and terror. No, he wants to scream. _No, no, no_ , he can’t do this. He can’t do this again.

Not that anyone cares what Jason thinks he can and can’t do.

“Of course you’d get to go first,” Wally says, even as he pulls Jason’s hips back and forces himself into him in one brutal thrust. All Jason can do this time is whimper pathetically, drooling around Roy, tears spilling hot over his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t complain,” Dick says. “If the Flash ever gets another useless little sidekick, you can be the first to break him in.”

Wally just grunts. Jason squirms. The pace he’s set is brutal, thrusting faster than humanly possible and the friction is rubbing Jason’s sore hole raw. It _hurts_ and it’s humiliating, lying limp over the arm of the couch whilst they tug him between them like nothing more than a sex toy. Talking over him like he isn’t even here.

“I hope you’re talking about this bitch,” Wally growls, snapping his hips hard enough that Jason chokes, his throat convulsing around Roy’s length. Roy groans and his fingers twist hard in Jason’s hair as his own hips bump against Jason’s chin. “I’m _not_ Flash’s sidekick.”

“Of course you aren’t.” 

There’s the wet sound of kissing, a groan, then more heat flooding inside Jason. At least it was over fast, Jason thinks.

Except, Wally doesn’t pull out. Instead, he just starts thrusting again, slower this time, but no less painful. Jason sobs, writhing desperately between them.

“Roy, pull out, I wanna turn him over.”

Roy does and Jason gasps a sobbing breath at the sudden freedom of his throat. Wally flips him as easily as if Jason weighs nothing, and Jason loses that breath in the next moment, as his back hits the arm of the couch and Wally thrusts back inside of him. The new position strains his arms worse than ever. His legs flop uselessly on either side of Wally. And, worst of all, now he can see Wally’s face as he thrusts into him, the mean grin stretching his lips, the way his pupils are blown wide with lust. He can see Dick, too, hovering at Wally’s shoulder. When their eyes meet, Dick winks, like this is all some fun little game.

Jason snarls. “Fuck you,” he sobs. “You fucking rapist piece of _shit_.”

Dick’s face doesn’t change. He’s still grinning like Jason is some particularly amusing toy. “Come on, Jay,” he purrs, reaching forward to stroke over Jason’s stomach like he’s some angry cat to be soothed. Jason’s muscles twitch beneath the touch. “This is what it takes to be a Titan.”

“Then I don’t-” Jason starts, only to cut off with a startled gasp as Wally starts to _vibrate_ inside him.

Fuck. Jason’s hips buck frantically in the cage of Wally’s hands. He gasps again, tries to bite off the moan that tears out of him but can’t quite manage it. Dick’s grin widens but Jason can barely even see his face any more, his vision blurring almost to the point of blindness. Wally is pressed right up against that awful, awesome spot inside him and, through the pain and humiliation, Jason hadn’t even noticed. Except now, with Wally buzzing like a fucking vibrator, it’s suddenly all Jason can think about. Warm pleasure pools in his gut, pulsing out through his stomach from everywhere that Wally’s cock is touching. And it’s so intense, it barely even feels good, but Jason can’t seem to stop gasping and rocking and squirming like he’s desperate for more.

“Little slut loves it,” Wally grunts.

“No,” Jason manages. “No.”

Except, he can’t deny the way his body is reacting. His cock is hard and rigid against his belly, drooling precum over his tunic and his legs are trembling like a new-born colt’s and he can’t breathe through the intensity of the sensation. He can’t think.

That’s when Roy yanks his head back and thrusts himself back into Jason’s gaping mouth.

The new angle seems to force his cock even deeper, until Jason can almost feel it in his _chest_ , and he chokes and gags and tries to gasp for breath that isn’t there and his whole body clenches as his orgasm crashes through him like a battering ram, a blunt instrument, smashing through all of Jason’s resistance.

“Woah,” he hears distantly, as his body shakes itself apart, “didn’t even have to touch him.”

Jason’s face burns with the humiliation. His chest aches. God, he wishes he hadn’t taken Dick up on his invitation. God, how he wishes he had never even met the fucker. Never met Bruce. The streets were bad, but they weren’t _this_.

Above him, Roy grunts, thrusting hard into Jason’s slack mouth. His cock throbs, twitching in the clasp of Jason’s throat, then salty cum is shooting down Jason’s throat, across his tongue when Roy drags himself back to paint the last few ropes of cum across Jason’s face. Jason chokes and gags and shuts his eyes tight as cum splatters across the bridge of his nose.

And Wally hasn’t _stopped_ , except the pleasure has morphed into pain, Jason sore and sensitive, and it’s too much.

Someone touches his thigh. Dick, Jason thinks, blinking through the tears and the sting of salt in his eyes. The hand slides over his skin, over the crease where his groin meets his hip, over the curve of his ass. Then two fingers spear into him without warning, a sharp, sudden pain. Jason cries out, his back arching automatically in a vain attempt to escape the intrusion.

“If Beast Boy is going to take a turn with him, we should stretch him out a bit first,” Dick says and Jason shudders at the implication there. “Jericho, get over here.”

Wally pulls away, then, but Jason doesn’t even have the mental capacity to feel relief. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because all Wally does is lift him up, manhandling him over to the couch with embarrassing ease, dropping down onto the cushion and pulling Jason into his lap, sliding his cock straight back inside him with barely any resistance at all.

Jason lets his head loll back against Wally’s shoulder and tries to retreat to the back of his mind. There’s no point fighting, anymore, afterall. It’s not like any of Jason’s resistance has meant anything. All he can do is lie there and take it and hope they at least let him live after this.

So Jason barely reacts when Joey looms suddenly into his vision. When fingers press up inside him and yank him open, he barely even whimpers, even though the stretch hurts. When Joey settles between Jason’s thighs - spread over the width of Wally’s own, baring him to the entire room - he shuts his eyes and grits his teeth and tells himself that he can handle the pain. It’s only pain. Jason has dealt with worse than this.

It doesn’t feel like it, though, when Joey forces his cock in alongside Wally’s. Something new tears deep inside Jason as Joey pushes in and keeps on pushing and Jason’s back arches automatically. His breath hitches, a strangled scream caught in his throat. Through sheer force of will, Jason keeps his eyes shut tight. He doesn’t want to see the pleasure on Joey’s face. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that the guy who’d sat quietly next to Jason as they’d munched on pizza is the same one who’s raping him now.

“Fuck, he’s tight,” Wally grunts, hips twitching where they’re trapped beneath Jason’s weight. In this position, he doesn’t have any more leverage than Jason does, but he doesn’t seem to need it. He’s still vibrating inside Jason and the odd not-quite pleasure mingles sickeningly with the pain in Jason’s gut.

Joey doesn’t make a sound as he pulls out and thrusts back in. Jason can feel the heat of his breath as he pants against his neck, though. Can feel his pleasure in the hard, hot line of his cock as it burns straight through Jason.

Someone grabs his head. A thumb presses hard beneath his eye. “Open your eyes, Little Wing,” Dick murmurs and Jason does so automatically, even though he hates himself for it.

Dick smiles. “There you are. Enjoying yourself?”

Jason sobs. “No,” he manages, a small, broken sound of pain.

The thumb at his eyes shifts to his lips. Joey touches his own lips to Jason’s throat, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss there. The thumb pushes into his mouth and Jason desperately wants to bite but he knows the risk isn’t worth that small satisfaction.

“You missing big brother’s cock already?” Dick asks, unbearably smug. “Or maybe it’s someone else that you’re missing?”

“You’re not my brother,” Jason spits, the words strangely distorted by the hoarseness of his throat.

Dick leans close, plastering himself against Joey’s back so he can ghost his lips across Jason’s cheek. Joey doesn’t seem to mind, thrusting painfully into Jason, peppering his own kisses across Jason’s neck.

“Wouldn’t daddy be so disappointed to hear that?”

“Fuck you,” Jason snarls, pain and humiliation burning in his gut. He doesn’t want Dick to talk about B. He doesn’t want to even _think_ about B whilst he has two cocks up his ass and cum drying tacky on his face. “Don’t fucking call him that.”

“Why not?” Dick asks, stroking his thumb over Jason’s tongue. “I bet he’d love to hear you call him daddy while you bounce on his cock.”

Jason’s stomach lurches. He tastes acid. “Shut up,” he growls. “B would _never_.”

Dick laughs. Then he pulls away, slipping his thumb free from Jason’s mouth to stroke his hand through Joey’s golden curls instead. Joey glances up then, lifting his head from where he’d been sucking a painful bruise beneath Jason’s jaw. When he catches Dick’s eye, he smiles.

“You know what Jericho’s powers are, Jason?” Dick asks.

Jason does, but he shakes his head anyway. He doesn’t want to hear this.

“He can take possession of someone’s body just by looking at them. You think Batman is immune to that? You think he could stop Jericho from using his body to fuck you? Would you want him to?”

Jason feels cold all over, even where Wally and Joey are still forcing themselves into him again and again. He opens his mouth, in a vain attempt to refute that, to beg Dick to shut the fuck up, to scream, maybe.

What surges up his throat instead is acid and bile. He chokes, gags. Has just enough time to turn his head to the side before he throws up all over the couch.

Joey pulls away the moment he starts retching. Behind him, Wally makes an aggrieved noise. Then he stands, abruptly, dumping Jason onto the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” Wally snaps. Jason turns his head weakly, his stomach cramping, his cheek aching where it met the ground with a sharp crack. “What did you have to go and do that for, Dick?”

“It’s not my fault he’s a filthy little bitch,” Dick snaps right back. A foot collides with Jason’s ribs. Then Dick is crouching beside him, yanking his head up by the hair and snarling in his face. “If you want to act like an animal, we can arrange that.”

Jason groans. The sting of stomach acid burns his already ravaged throat. His lower half throbs and aches, his legs wet with what he suspects is blood and what he wishes wasn’t cum.

A growl reverberates through the room, lower than Jason could ever hope to reach. His heart leaps up into his throat as he puts the pieces together. It’s not hard to guess what might be coming next.

Someone whistles. “Damn,” Roy says, sounding very far away, “you aren’t going easy on him, huh, Gar? You think he can take that?”

Jason tries to squirm away, even though it’s pointless, even though this is going to happen whether he wants it to or not, whether he can take it or not. Dick puts a hand on his head to still him.

“I guess we’ll find out,” he says, and Jason’s face is pressed into the carpet so he can’t look up at him, but he can hear the smirk that quirks his lips.

“No,” Jason manages. “No, don’t, _please_. Isn’t this enough?”

Dick doesn’t answer. Behind Jason, there’s a terrifying snuffling sound, then something cold and wet noses at Jason’s legs. He can tell, just from that touch, that whatever animal Garfield has picked is _huge_ and that thought scares him more than any other tonight.

“No,” he shrieks, hysterically. “Dick, please, _big brother_ , please, don’t make me do this.”

Dick just hums. One hand strokes over the nape of Jason’s neck. Behind him, Beast Boy noses between Jason’s thighs and Jason shudders at the first touch of something warm and slimy against his abused hole. Gar doesn’t linger for long, pausing there just long enough to lap at some of the blood and cum slicking his entrance, before heaving his enormous body up over Jason, caging him in. 

Fur tickles Jason’s bare thighs. Hot breath ruffles his curls as Gar pants above him. One huge paw claws at Jason’s waist and Jason flinches away, pressing himself into the ground in a vain attempt to escape this.

Gar growls again. Dick’s hand disappears just in time to be replaced by something warm and wet against the back of Jason’s neck as Gar presses his jaws around Jason’s throat. Whatever animal it is - a wolf, Jason thinks, it has to be a wolf - it’s so huge that his jaws cover almost the entirety of Jason’s head. With his face turned to the side, Jason can see huge white teeth. He can feel the sharp point of them at the back of his neck, pressing into his skull. A threat. Gar could kill him as easily as breathing.

Jason whimpers. His whole body is trembling so hard that it takes a few tries to actually get his knees under him. When he does, tilting his hips up in a way that has his throat closing over, Gar rumbles approvingly. One big paw presses against Jason’s back, making his arms creak ominously beneath the strain, bending his spine into a painful arch. He doesn’t release the threat of his jaws, just presses his hips forward, dragging his cock over Jason’s backside, rutting it against his lower back.

Jason can’t help whimpering again. He can’t stop trembling. Gar’s cock is heavy against his back. The musky smell of animal is thick in Jason’s nose.

When Gar thrusts, his cock stabs between Jason’s cheeks, sliding over his skin without purchase. Gar tries again with as little success, forcing himself against Jason, smearing precum across his skin, but failing to actually press himself inside.

Gar growls furiously. Jason sobs in terror, frozen beneath the threat. He doesn’t want this to happen, but he’s so scared of finding out what Gar will do if it doesn’t.

“Chill out, Beast Boy,” Dick says and he sounds amused. It’s so far removed from the terror that’s coursing through Jason’s entire body that it seems almost unreal. “I’ll help you out.”

The tip of Gar’s dick presses against Jason’s hole, then. It doesn’t feel that big, like this, the tip slim and tapered and wetter than any human cock Jason’s ever felt, but he remembers the weight of it against his back, and he can’t relax his rigid muscles. Gar pushes forward and even the slim tip is agony against every tear and wound in Jason’s body. He cries out. Trembles. Chokes as Gar pushes relentlessly forward, jamming every terrible inch into Jason’s body.

If Jason had thought any of the cocks he’d taken before had been huge, they feel like nothing compared to the behemoth punching it’s way through him now. Distantly, Jason realises he’s screaming, but it feels secondary to the sensation of Gar jerking himself out and forcing his way back in, ramming even more of his cock inside. He does it again and again, thrusting jerkily, getting deeper with every rock of his hips, until, finally, he’s seated fully inside.

The urge to throw up swells up Jason’s throat again. Gar is so huge that Jason can feel him in his belly. It feels like the tip is right up under his ribs, forcing his internal organs aside. If he looked down, Jason knows he would see the bulge of him behind his abs and the thought makes him dizzy.

The next few moments of Jason’s life are a blank. His head spins nauseatingly. His vision blurs and darkens. If Jason is actually getting any oxygen out of his desperate, sobbing gasps, it doesn’t seem to be getting to his brain. And yet, Jason seems to only teeter on the edge of passing out. If anything, the pain keeps him present, sparking like electricity up his spine, throbbing in his throat.

Jason has no idea how long he lies beneath Gar. Time seems to stretch and warp strangely. Jason has no idea if he actually loses conscious or not. He has no idea what the others are doing - if they’re still watching, if they’re _enjoying_ this agonising humiliation.

Finally, finally, Gar’s thrusts start to falter. He presses himself deep, jerking against Jason in short, grinding motions. Jason almost wants to cry in relief, except...except, Gar’s cock seems to be swelling, thickening at the base with every jagged thrust and...no. No this can’t be happening.

“No,” Jason sobs. “No, Gar, _please_.”

But the wolf only snarls, his grip on Jason’s head tighening enough that Jason feels blood trickle over his scalp, sharp little pinpricks of pain that are nothing compared to the agony of Gar’s knot ripping him in two.

Jason screams. Gar growls, his cock twitches as it locks in place behind Jason’s ruined ring of muscle. Then hot liquid spurts out of the tip, so deep inside Jason that it feels as though it’s being emptied directly into his stomach. And it keeps coming, more gushing out of Gar with every throb of his cock, filling Jason up until he feels swollen with it, until he’s gagging around nothing, the taste of cum at the back of his throat.

Finally, he passes out.

When he comes to, Gar is no longer over him, inside him. No one is. Jason shifts. Feels pain spark right through him like a knife. His hole clenches around nothing, spilling hot liquid across his legs. Jason groans, blinking sticky eyelashes open, swallowing against the agony in his throat.

Dick is crouched over him, smiling.

“Welcome back, Robin. You did good.” A hand strokes over Jason’s ruined curls. “You were a good little bitch for us.”

Jason blinks again. He feels weak and wrung out. He doesn’t have the energy to protest.

“We just have one last little test,” Dick says, softly. Then he fumbles with his fly, tugging his limp cock free. Jason blinks again and hot tears spill over the bridge of his nose, cutting through the tacky cum there.

Why the fuck can’t this just be over?

But Dick doesn’t force himself into Jason’s mouth, or shift to crouch between his legs. Instead he stands. Jason stares at his shins and wonders what this next game is.

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

There’s a soft hissing noise. Then something warm and wet hits Jason’s cheek, splashing across his mouth and ear. Jason flinches, slamming his eyes shut, but he doesn’t bother trying to pull away.

Dick chuckles. The stream of piss shifts, drenching Jason’s curls instead, pattering down over his throat, soaking into the material of his tunic. The smell of ammonia is strong in the air. Jason can taste it on his tongue, although he keeps his lips tightly sealed.

When Dick is finally finished, he shakes his cock of the last few droplets of piss before tucking himself away. Then he reaches down and drags Jason to his feet. Jason’s knees buckle, too weak from pain and exhaustion to keep him upright, but Dick shakes him impatiently and forces him to his feet again.

“You did good, Robin,” Dick says. Jason blinks hazily at him. The other Titans are gathered around them in a loose semi-circle. Jason shivers under their attention. “But you aren’t a real superhero, are you? No real hero would have let someone do that to them, huh? They would have fought. They would have stopped us.” A hand strokes across Jason’s piss-soaked cheek, deceptively gentle. “You’re just a filthy little street rat whore. And we can’t let a bitch like you come on a Titans’ mission, can we?”

Despite everything, the words hurt. Jason isn’t stupid. He’s under no illusion that Dick was ever going to let him come on a mission with his team. This was all just a bit of fun to him. A way to get back at the little bitch who dared to take his place beside Batman - his name, his costume. Jason never truly had a chance to prove himself to any of them.

Still, the words hurt.

“Clean yourself up and get out of here,” Dick says, pushing Jason’s discarded shorts into his hand. “And, whatever you do, don’t tell B what happened. For your own sake. You know he’d never believe you.”

Jason sways when Dick removes his hands. The warning almost makes him laugh. As if Jason would ever admit to anyone what’s happened here. As if he would ever let Bruce know how badly they’d gotten the better of him.

Painfully, Jason struggles into his shorts. Someone tosses Jason his cape and he somehow manages to catch it in nerveless fingers. He wraps it around himself, gratefully, glad that it covers at least some of the damage.

“We’ll see you around, Jay,” Garfield says, lifting a hand, as friendly as if he hadn’t just raped Jason in the form of an enormous wolf.

Roy snorts. “We’d better not.”

Jason shivers. Steels himself against the pain and starts limping desperately towards the exit. He needs to get out of here. He can’t stand another second in this fucking place.

“Goodbye, Little Wing,” Dick says, right before Jason staggers into the zeta and disappears.

Finally, he’s out of there. Jason stumbles, falls, catches himself on hands and knees. The zeta has dumped him right back in the cave, but he’s not worried about Batman finding him. B has been gone for days, chasing after the Joker. For once Jason is grateful.

Alfred is still about, but Jason knows how to avoid him. All he needs to do is get to his room and clean up and then he can pretend this hadn’t happened. He can go back to life exactly as it was before Dick’s call.

Jason thinks about the little slip of paper hidden in his bedside draw and the two names still not crossed out. He’d been hoping - and the admittance even to himself hurts - that Dick might be able to help him. But Jason doesn’t need him. He doesn’t need anyone.

Jason can find his mother by himself. Then maybe he’ll finally have the family he deserves.


End file.
